


The Exorcism of Anthony J(anthony) Crowley

by JudeJube



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Exorcisms, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Religious Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 19:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21002783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudeJube/pseuds/JudeJube
Summary: It's the 1960's. Roller rinks are a thing, ABBA's making their way to fame, and exorcisms are on the rise by popular demand. Aziraphale has been hired as an exorcist and Ye Locale Churche to look into the legitimacy of these practices, and Crowley decides to stir up mischief to avoid both Hastur and the dredgery of paperwork.  shenanigans ensue.





	The Exorcism of Anthony J(anthony) Crowley

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was a wonderful, albeit stressful, event to participate in! definitely shook the cobwebs from my google docs and created quite a challenge! Hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> The intro piece was drawn by the fantastic Sinna, you can find him here on Twitter:  
https://twitter.com/baobones
> 
> The exorcism piece was drawn by the absolutely lovely Corvid, you can find them here on Youtube:  
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCPL0VhyjFF9IJM0hFVD87PQ

“How well do you think you could blend in?”

Aziraphale studied Gabriel nervously, mulling over the question carefully before speaking.

“I...I suppose as well as any angel could, posing as a member of the church. Wouldn’t that annoy the Almighty though? Invoking her name in sermons, leading prayers, all falsely?”

“All part of The Great Plan, I’m sure,” Gabriel reassured Aziraphale, in the way Gabriel always did. Which was to say, rather condescending, and not very comforting at all. “Besides, think of all the valuable information we could gather. All you have to do is dance around, mumble some mystic mumbo-jumbo, you could even knock off a few miracles and a whole lot of blessings like this. It’s the ideal place to do all your work, and spy a little on the other side at the same time.”

“Yes, I can see the appeal to it, but, um...who’s to say their ceremonies even work? I know I certainly haven’t imbued any humans with the ability to banish demons from corporeal forms, and I sincerely doubt- I mean, I wouldn’t think Heaven in general would have thought to do that, when it’s meant to be our work.”

“Aziraphale, honestly.” Gabriel chuckled, a very… ‘plastic’ smile plastered onto his face as he clapped the angel on the shoulder. “The minor details matter very little. All that matters is that we debunk whatever the humans have gotten up to, find out if it works or not, and then...use that against Hell. Aren’t you rather attached to humans?”

“Well, I suppose so-”

“Then I see this as a win-win! We get our intel, and you get to...I don’t know, expand your book collection?” Aziraphale could see the Archangel’s point. That and he wanted to get away from the stuffy atmosphere Heaven had been exuding lately, as quickly as he could.

“Alright, Alright, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a go, for a little while at least. What am I to do if these exorcisms work, though?” He asked. Gabriel shrugged.

“Then I suppose you eliminate a few demons in the process.”

\-----------------------------------

"Listen, I've got nothing better to do until the M25 gets wrapped up, and we both know humans take a lot longer than we do to finish things. This would be a great way to get some side temptations done, really, and none would be the wiser!" Crowley really, really didn't want to be assigned with Hastur, which was what Lord Beelzebub was suggesting. Honestly, he'd rather get stuck with a ravenous, man-eating 15 foot alligator. Realistically, that wouldn't be a threat to himself, but it was the point of the matter that he'd still rather that than the Duke of Hell.

"But...it's all in their heads," the Prince of Hell rebuked, regarding Crowley with a bored sort of look that told him they'd rather be anywhere but here. "It really poses no actual benefit for us. What would be the point beyond wasting our time and yours?"

"Well..you see, Lord Beezlebub, it woooould…" he trailed off for a moment, before he was struck by an idea. "Well...with a little demonic intervention, I could tempt a few of the er.. 'possessed' into defying the church. Wouldn't that be a riot? It would certainly mean more souls for Hell, and with how tight-staffed we've been, I'm sure we could benefit with an influx of demons joining our ranks." The Prince seemed to be listening, a buzzing hum the only indicator. After what felt like an eternity of waiting, Beezlebub nodded their consent. "Well, seeing as you have one of the highest amounts of commendations among us...I'll agree to it. I expect to see numbers rising, Crowley. If not you'll be taken off this little pet project and return to helping Hastur file paperwork."

Crowley was glad to have his glasses, masking the immense relief he felt, and he nodded, bowing respectfully to his superior.

"You won't regret it, Lord Beezlebub. This'll be The Big One until the M25 is complete."

"See to it that it is. You are dismissed."

\-------------------------------

"Honestly Angel, they expected me to work with Hastur of all demons! Hastur! Really, I'd much rather watch paint dry for all eternity. Or watch someone cut their lawn with a pair of sewing scissors. You know, the small dainty ones, they're kind of shaped like a little bird. It would be so agonizing."

"I thought the whole point of Hell was to be agonizing," Aziraphale remarked, a wry smile on his lips as he sipped delicately at his wine. "Would it really surprise you that they'd aim to pair you with the least compatible demon?"

"I..well-er...Okay you have a point, but it still stands that I'd rather get stung by a million yellow jackets and then throw myself into a vat of lemon juice than work with that drab idiot. Can't take a joke that one," Crowley complained, drinking from the bottle as he stretched languidly across the couch. "Honestly, you and I could tempt or bless way more people than Hastur and Ligur combined. And we're supposed enemies!"

"Not that I'd be caught dead doing such a thing, but I see what you mean," Aziraphale added, and Crowley stared at him, mildly annoyed.

"I don't know who you're trying to keep appearances for, Angel. No one's listening in. I doubt it, at least."

"I don't know what you mean," the other replied, miffed a bit by the remark, and he went back to his wine. "I'd rather play it safe. Anyway, you have yet to tell me what you're plotting, I'm a bit lost on your little 'stroke of genius'."

"Mgh...don't worry too much about it, Angel, I have no intention of actually doing it. Humans do enough of their own bad deeds, I hardly need to lift a finger."

"Well...I suppose that's true. Gabriel's got me busy myself." He felt bad for not telling him the full truth, but he'd been sworn to secrecy, and honestly, this assignment hardly affected Crowley. "I suppose I won't see you for a bit then. We ought to get together for lunch sometime soon, once I wrap up my assignment and you've finished pretending to do yours."

"Mn, yes, that'd be peachy, Angel. My treat this time."

"Well, then it's agreed. I suppose I'll see you in a few years."

"Yeah, seems like it. It'll be pretty boring, no doubt. But, what else can you do? Have to keep up appearances, after all."

Aziraphale hummed in agreement, and the two sat in companionable silence for a bit, lost in their own thoughts. Crowley began to look a bit troubled after a bit, and seemed hesitant to say anything at first. He watched Aziraphale for a while, abandoning his wine glass on the table for now, and chewed on his lip. He finally spoke.

"Listen, 'Zira, I wanted to talk to you about something that's been on my mind."

"Yes, my dear?" The angel lowered his glass to the table as well, hands folding primly in his lap as he waited patiently. The demon still seemed a bit apprehensive, so the blond smiled reassuringly at him.

"Right. Er..It's just..about 1862."

"...Yes? What of it?" His smile wavered minutely, and Crowley took notice. He swallowed hard, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Mgh..well...it's just that..well, I don't want to make you angry, I was just..curious, you know? Why wouldn't you give me some? I'm not looking to go about using it all willy nilly, I really do just want it as, er...backup, you know? Like how spies do it with the cyanide pills. Absolute last resort and all."

"Crowley, I don't wish to entertain this idea. And I certainly don't want to have a casual conversation about it. I thought you'd put this past you?" Aziraphale was visibly upset, fussing with his vest restlessly.

"I mean- I've accepted your answer, somewhat-"

"Somewhat?!"

"-I just, I don't understand why it's such a big deal! If it's about Heaven finding out then, yeah okay, I understand being wary and careful. But you've done sneakier things than that," he insisted.

"It's about the principal of the matter!" Aziraphale cried out, looking rather offended about the topic. "I shouldn't have to explain all the reasons why I refuse-"

"So there's more than one reason?"

"-That's besides the point, Crowley!" Aziraphale stood now, adjusting his vest, watching the demon icily. "My answer was no before, and I'll say it again. I'm not bringing you a suicide pill, and that's that. Now, if you're quite done pestering me on the subject, I'd like to retire for the night."

"But-but you don't sleep, Angel." Crowley looked a bit hurt by the request, but Aziraphale remained firm, crossing his arms across his chest stubbornly, and the demon heaved a sigh. "Alright, Alright, 'm going." He grabbed his jacket and the keys to the bentley, slinging his coat over his shoulder and slinking towards the door. He paused with his hand on the handle. "Listen, don't get your feathers in a twist, I just...nevermind. I'm sorry to have troubled you, Aziraphale." And with that, Crowley slipped out of the bookshop, and Aziraphale was left to stare at the door angrily. He listened to the sound of the Bentley roaring to life, and he sighed heavily, sitting in his armchair. Well. He had hoped the night would have ended much better than it did. He supposed fate had had different plans. He folded his hands in front of him contemplatively. He still hoped that Crowley would drop the topic now. Still, it would have been nice to spend a bit more time with the demon before they were both too busy with each other. He sighed again.

\----------

"Oh, honestly, are the collars really supposed to be this tight?" Aziraphale complained, mostly to himself, as he readjusted the clerical collar for the millionth time. It really wasn't too snug, it fit just right, as did the rest of his clothing. But nerves were becoming an increasing problem, and complaining was helping him keep sane. Really, he knew what he was supposed to say and do, had rehearsed it dozens of times to himself in the mirror at home. And really he wasn't leading a sermon. He was simply introducing himself, explaining what he was there to do, and...that was about it. Still, he was uncomfortable with the notion of this whole ordeal. Really, wasn’t there something almost blasphemous about him playing pretend in a place of worship? Angel or not, he wasn’t there to do what the church had been intended for, and he disliked that, quite a lot.

Oh well, not much he could do, if it really was what Heaven and, by extension the Almighty herself wanted. He’d just have to grin and bear it, really. No matter how disconcerting it was for him.

A head peeked in through the door, the actual head priest checking in on the newest addition, and smiling at him reassuringly.

“It’s time, Father Fell.” yikes, did Aziraphale hate the way that sounded, and he must have visibly cringed because the human had smiled apologetically. He shot him a nervous and unconvincing smile of his own to the other, straightening out his robes yet again, before following him out the door and to where the stage and pews were.

“Yes, quite, I apologize for the wait.”

“Don’t worry, first time jitters happen,” the priest reassured the angel. “You’ll do just fine. Just remember to breathe, and, imagine they’re all naked.”

“Yes, alright, that’s- wait what?” The priest laughed.

“I’m joking. Everything will be alright. Just relax and do your best, and things will go smoothly.”

Aziraphale did take a deep breath, quite a long one that he held for some time, before exhaling noisily. The priest left his side, standing in front of the crowd and addressing the crowd.

“Good morning, everyone. I trust that you are all doing well today.” there was collective murmurings of affirmation, and the priest smiled brightly at everyone. “Wonderful. I’m glad to hear it. I have a bit of an announcement to make, before we get started here today. Firstly, for anyone interested in sending their children to the week long bible camp we have coming this summer, please note that signups and fees are expected to be in by next week’s sermon. Any and all special arrangements and allergies must be reported to us prior to the start date so that we may accommodate accordingly. Secondly, we have a new member here with us today. He will be here to assess certain..situations, and help accordingly. Those of you who have spoken to me in private about such things, know what i’m speaking about. For the rest, Father Fell is to be treated as a guest, and with the utmost respect. I trust you’ll all give him a warm welcome.” As if on cue, the priest gestured to the angel. Aziraphale swallowed hard, before stepping up to meet him on the stage, giving an awkward little wave and a small smile.

“Ah, yes, hello, it’s, er...lovely to meet you all. I um...I look forward to working with you under the..the grace of God.”

There was an enthusiastic response from the churchgoers, a warm welcome. The priest smiled at Aziraphale again, gesturing for him to continue, and the angel held back a sigh.

"I, er..well...just, remember to, um..just remember to keep faith in God, and..and everything must happen for a reason. Just...have faith that God is looking out for you, and that She-HE, He has a plan for us all, no matter how strange it may seem. Continue to keep fear and doubt and darkness cast out from your hearts and minds, and I'm certain you'll be on the right path."

"Wise words, Father," the priest hummed, clapping him on the shoulder, and Aziraphale held back the urge to shudder. The man seemed nice enough, though his confident attitude bordered on an arrogance reminiscent of Gabriel. It gave Aziraphale the heebie jeebies.

The rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch, Aziraphale quietly observing as everyone enthusiastically responded and participated. He was surprised he'd never thought to attend one of these, but now that he was, he decided it was for the best. This wasn't exactly his cup of tea. He didn't see himself willingly attending one of these once this assignment wrapped up. Too cultish, Crowley would say. He promptly ignored that thought.

Eventually, however, the sermon finished, and he gave a small smile to the priest as he bid him farewell until next week, and Aziraphale's work began.

Most attendees left, filing out with their families and friends, chattering amongst themselves. Eventually the pews emptied, and the angel was left standing in front of them, watching a woman and her young son sitting towards the back cautiously make their way up to him.

What the priest had purposefully left out, was that Mr. Fell was here for one reason and one reason alone. In fact only a few people really knew anything about the newcomer's real practice, and that had been intentional. Didn't want this to be advertised, for the sake of a select few's privacy, and anything discussed about Mr. Fell's occupation had been in the privacy of his office, to those he thought would benefit from his services. And that had included Ms. Clarke and her boy, Tom. According to what the priest had told Aziraphale, Tom suffered from vivid hallucinations, often hearing things whispered to him when no one was there, or shadowy figures in his peripheral. He often suffered from night terrors, claiming he often felt a weight on his chest when he awoke in the middle of the night. His mother had claimed that this could only be the work of the spirits of Hell, and she was convinced her son was being haunted by a demon.

“Well, hello there, Ms. Clarke, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Aziraphale said politely, shaking her hand and smiling warmly at the boy. “And you must be Tom. I’ve heard quite a bit about you, my dear boy. Your mother boasts that you’re quite an intelligent lad for your age.”

“I’m nine,” Tom piped up proudly, and his mother smiled a bit.

“He excels in his schoolwork. We’re thinking he’ll be surpassing his class and skipping a grade come next school year,” she told the angel, running a hand through her son’s hair in an attempt to tame the wild mess.

“Well that’s rather impressive,” Aziraphale replied cheerfully,before kneeling down to the boy’s eye level. “That must be dreadfully difficult to keep up with, if you aren’t getting enough sleep at night. And I do hear you’ve been hearing and seeing some rather scary things as of late, is that true?” The boy nodded. “Does this happen to you a lot?” Another nod. “I’m very sorry to hear that. I do believe I can say though, you’re quite safe. Nothing will hurt you, I’ll make certain of that.”

“How can you be so sure?” His mother asked, and Aziraphale smiled again.

“Ma’am, dealing with supernatural entities and the wiles of Hell is quite literally my specialty. If I say I’ll make certain he’s safe, then so it shall be.” Tom seemed to sag with relief, a bit tearful now.

“So i’m not gonna go to Hell?” He asked, and the angel laughed.

“My dear boy, you have done nothing wrong to deserve such a fate. I can assure you, you’re going to be quite alright. We’ll see to it that these silly spectres leave such a bright young man alone, and leave you and your mother in peace.”

The reason Aziraphale could say such things, with such certainty that it almost seemed arrogant, was because he could sense absolutely no hellish residue on the young man. There was nothing tainting the boy, nothing grasping on to him to claim his soul, nothing of that ilk even permeated the smallest fragment of space around the boy, or his mother for that matter. They were just..two very normal people, albeit quite misguided on the mechanisms of the human mind. He had a rather good hunch about what was troubling the boy.

“Tom, when you go to sleep, do you get a lot of sleep, or a little bit of sleep before you wake up to these monsters on your chest?” Tom thought about it for a little while.

“I think only a little bit. Sometimes I can see my clock when I wake up, and only a little bit of time went by.”

“Alright, and after you wake up to these beasts, do you fall back asleep, or do you stay awake all night?”

“Not all night, but I don’t get a lot of sleep after. Sometimes Mum will come wake me up for school and I’ll still be up.”

“I see. And does this happen quite often?”

“Nearly three or four times a week, sometimes it’s every day for a while,” His mother interjected, and Aziraphale nodded.

“I see. And have you taken him to see a doctor at all? Perhaps he’s been through some psychological trauma and it’s begun to affect him?” Tom’s mother looked offended.

“Are you insinuating I can’t take care of my own son’s needs properly?”

“Certainly not! One thing you must understand about my practice is that I must rule out any logical reasoning behind what’s occurring, in order to properly assist you,” He explained, and Ms. Clarke still looked miffed, though she nodded in understanding.

“I suppose that makes sense. No, The only thing that happened was his father and I separating.”

“I see. I am sorry to hear that, my dear,” Aziraphale told her apologetically.

“Don’t be. The separation was civil, and his father, while he and I don’t get along very well, has been nothing short of wonderful to Tom.”

“Well, I’m certainly pleased to hear that.” He was absolutely certain by now that Tom was not under demonic influence, instead perhaps troubled by his father and mother’s separation and maybe sleep paralysis. That’s what it sounded like to him, at least. “Well, in any case, this is just a preliminary meeting. I’d like you to continue monitoring his sleep until next week, and you and I will make time for a proper meeting to discuss what ought to happen going further. It was very lovely to meet you both, I do look forward to seeing you again, despite the circumstances.” And with that, Aziraphale and Ms. Clarke shook hands, and Aziraphale smiled kindly down at Tom, and the three parted ways.

In the coming week, Ms. Clarke kept a very keen eye on her son, marking down in a journal any instances of Tom informing her about his night terrors. Aziraphale, on the other hand….

He honestly didn’t do much.

Not that he didn’t care! Quite the contrary, he did care, very much. It’s just, well… what’s an angel to do about a possession-that’s-not? It seemed more like a quick trip to their family doctor would right their problems, but the boy’s mother had gotten so offended, Aziraphale was now forced to play along. She’d approached him, once, during the week, insisting it was the work of dark forces, and despite his best efforts of persuading her otherwise, she’d refused to budge on the matter.

And now, he was forced to play along, to pretend like she was right because otherwise, how else was her son going to get help? It just meant that there was very little for him to do besides miracle the boy’s problems away on the weekend.

That’d meant an entire week to himself. After their little ...disagreement, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Crowley, and while he was still rather upset about it, he found himself at least somewhat missing his company. Especially now that he had something to gossip about with him. Oh well. There was nothing to be done about it, and he stubbornly absorbed himself in his books as he waited. And decidedly did not think about how nice it would be to have a surprise visit from his friend.

The surprise visit never happened (no surprise there, really), and soon it was Sunday, and he’d figured out what to do about the boy. Though it’d be easy to just snap his fingers and Tom’s problems would be solved, he’d be hard pressed to giving a proper explanation as to how he’d fixed things.

Not to mention, he did like the theatrics he had in mind. He considered it to be much less like lying and much more like performing one of his magician tricks. Except he was much better at this sort of thing than pulling coins from someone’s ear.

After the sermon, the three met up, although this time in the comfort and privacy of the priest’s back office, well after everyone had left. This was a private affair after all, and prying eyes were not welcome here.

“Well, it’s as I said, Father, none of your little home-remedies have worked,” Mrs. Clarke said, somewhat triumphantly. “It seems I was right all along.”

“Yes, it does seem that way doesn’t it,” Aziraphale remarked dryly, though the sarcasm was lost on the woman. “Good thing I was prepared for this sort of thing.”

“So you’ll be performing the exorcism tonight, then?”

“Yes, although it won’t be quite as flashy as they portray it in the media, my dear.”

“What do you mean?” Tom piped up, and the angel’s warm smile returned once more.

“It just means there won’t be anything scary going on.”

“So you won’t tie me to a chair and chant at me?” Aziraphale laughed at that.

“Heavens no!” and then, directed to his mother. “I believe a, ah ...ceremony, of that caliber, would actually be detrimental, not helpful. Whatever demonic forces that are at play here are, erm...rather weak, and while they are a nuisance, they don’t really require much work to be banished.” Mrs. Clarke looked rather relieved to hear that, and she squeezed her son’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Well, that’s good news I suppose.”

“Indeed it is. It’ll be a rather brief ordeal, and I’ll be sending you home with a few things, just to aid in, er, reassuring yourselves that the spirits are well and truly gone. Shall I get started, then?” Mother and son nodded in unison. “Peachy. Now, if you don’t mind too terribly, I have to ask you to leave the room, Ma’am.”

“Why is that necessary?” she asked defensively. Aziraphale resisted the temptation to roll his eyes.

“I’d hate to banish this demon just for it to go about inhabiting you, my dear,” he pointed out. He’d made up this rule on the spot, and decided to stick with it. “Demons are terribly tricky to work against, and they won’t hesitate to inhabit the nearest soul once they’ve been ejected from the current one.” That seemed to terrify the woman enough, and she nodded curtly.

“Where should I be then?”

“Ah…” He trailed off, mulling it over. “Back to the hall, you can sit in front of the statue of Mary and pray. The spirits won’t bother you like that.” He felt truly terrible for making all this up, however despite his own connection to Heaven and by extension the Almighty Herself, he really had no idea what it was churchgoers were required to do. This was rather new territory for him. He probably should have done more research. However it seemed like what he’d said struck a chord with her, and she left the room without further complaint.

Once he was certain she was gone, he turned to Tom, folding his hands into a pyramid in front of himself as he decided on the best way to go about this.

“Now Tom, do you believe in magic?” Tom nodded hesitantly.

“But Mum says it’s like witchcraft. She doesn’t like it. Dad does magic tricks for me sometimes.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you believe in it. Your mother can believe whatever she likes, but sometimes a little bit of magic goes a long way. Even for someone like me. It’s a very useful tool for scaring off those naughty demons.”

Tom stared at the angel, apprehension easing into curiosity instead.

“Does that mean you’re going to do a magic trick on me?” He asked excitedly, and Aziraphale laughed.

“Something like that. Best to keep it between you and me, though. Wouldn’t want your mother thinking I was a witch now, would we?”

“She’d have your head if she did,” the boy remarked.

“Yes, and i’d like to keep it on my neck, thank you very much,” He mused. “Nothing I do will harm you in any way. Think of it as...flashing a light in the dark to scare off the spooky looking shadows.” Tom nodded.

“Right then, close your eyes, and I want you to imagine just that. Flashing a flashlight into a closet, or the hallway, and that big scary-looking shadow is nothing more than a...a sweater. Or the coat-rack.”

“What about the ones on my chest?” Tom piped up, as Aziraphale began channeling his holy energy into the frightened and naive parts of the boys mind, washing away the fear and anxiety and replacing it with faith and hope. And as for the sleep paralysis..Well, Gabriel had said he could perform a few miracles here and there.

“Think of them as nothing more than silly old black cats, sitting on you because they want your attention,” he mused, tousling the boys hair and pulling away, before digging through a pocket in his clerical uniform. “Why, that family cat you have sounds like it would be rather demanding of your attention, of course it would want nothing more than a few late night pets. Cats are mysterious and funny creatures like that.”

“Oh yeah! Gracie always tries to get my attention and play with me. Maybe the dark was just scaring me!”

“That sounds very reasonable. Just to be on the safe side, I’ve gone and taken care of any silly old spectres hovering around you. And, if it means you feel any safer, you can keep one of these.” He passed Tom a rosary, one he’d blessed himself, moreso for show than anything. “Nothing should spook you like that again, not even old Gracie.”

Aziraphale’s ‘business’ was a rousing success.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crowley was rather enjoying his time as a snake.

Really, he hadn’t had a chance to really stretch out like this since, what...Eden? He was having an absolute blast, frightening unsuspecting people. His favourite was when he talked to them in this form. The looks on their faces! It was like they were watching him grow a second head. It really was such a riot.

Honestly, he was just killing time at this point. He'd lied to Beezlebub when he said he had big plans. The M25 was his only big plan, honestly. Not to mention he had no intention of involving himself with religious mumbo-jumbo. It was all in the human's heads anyway. He just really didn't want to be stuck with Hastur. He was such a bore. No sense of humor. Honestly, just wretched to be around. He'd have to find something productive to do, eventually. Especially now that the angel was ignoring him. If he could frown as a snake, he would be frowning right now.

Eventually though, he did find something to do. He'd been hiding in a tree, basking in the sun, minding his own business really, when he'd caught wind of a few women's conversation. Intrigued, he slithered closer, listening intently now.

"-Really, Anne, he's such a gentleman as well! I hear he hasn't failed a single one! Just look at Josie's son, Tom! He was the first he treated you know. Poor Josie was absolutely at her wit's end! And no amount of prayers were helping. Truly, he was such a blessing in disguise!"

"I hear Tom's been absolutely peachy since the exorcism! Not a toe out of line!" That certainly caught Crowley's attention, and he nearly swayed in place as he listened. "And I've heard the same about Mary and Scott. Just absolute angels since he's taken them under his wing. Really, I'm impressed that he's so humble, what with how much attention and praise he's received from the church."

The first woman spoke up again.

"Honestly, what a charming man! There must not be a demon alive who wouldn't fear the man!" Well that certainly had his interest. A new exorcist in town? Of course Hell had heard of such people, but demons tended to have their own corporeal form, and seldom found use in possessing humans. Why borrow something gross and meaty when your own form did the job, after all? So while the idea of an exorcist wasn't new or particularly a threat (there was no evidence to support that their...practices, worked at all, given demons hadn't had a tendency to possess people), the news of having a new and successful exorcist was absolutely an anomaly. One worth Crowley messing with. He slithered off discreetly as he made up his mind to mess with this person. He had time to kill, might as well have a bit of fun with it.

Eventually, he'd settled into the role of a religious counsellor.

There was something almost blasphemous about it, and he found it rather funny. He was pleased that he didn't really need to be on or near any consecrated ground of any sort, and he managed to fill his office with fake little trinkets. Rosaries, holy water that was actually just regular water bottled in fancy glass cases, really it was more tacky than anything. But he was having great fun in the irony in it all and that's what mattered to him most.

He'd gotten himself set up and his name out there in a matter of a week. He'd found out what church this new hotshot of an exorcist was set up in, and had fudged the records to include his own name as a prerequisite for such visits. Mostly thanks to a quick run-in with the head pastor and a very convincing conversation with him. He had, frustratingly enough, not caught the name of the newest member to the church, but he would most likely meet the man eventually. There was no rush, after all he had nearly an entire decade to get everything sorted, maybe longer depending on how soon he could get the M25 done. He could take his time with this.

It started out easy enough. He learned the names of the individuals that attended the church, and, late at night, he would shift into his snake form, slither his way into the rooms of the children (he'd tried tricking one of the adults once. That had resulted in her waking up at a rather inopportune moment and his tail promptly being stomped on in his haste to escape the ensuing witch hunt for him. That had been all sorts of painful, he still couldn't quite work the kink out of his tail), hissing into their ears strange things and suggestions, tempting them into doing bad things. This entailed many things, from directly disobeying their parents, to breaking fragile things, to lying to their parents about all manner of things. He'd convinced one girl, a teenager, to sneak out of the house to run off with some friends for a late night joy ride, ensuring she was caught by her worried and furious parents a few hours later.

He was essentially just causing mischief really. But enough mischief to baffle this newcomer to the church. Honestly he doubted anyone had really, genuinely seen stuff like this. All he was doing was playing up what they showed in the movies. Once he'd convinced the kids to act up enough to be scrutinized by their parents, that's when the real fun began.

No one vomited pea soup or spun their heads around or climbed up walls, but he did conjure up a few demonic miracles of his own, levitating them when they slept under adult watch, frightening many mothers and infuriating fathers with the wicked things he convinced them to say. It was rather pleasing, the satisfaction of a job well done, and it was always at just the right moment they'd find the business card of one Anthony J. Crowley, tucked in with their daily mail, or hidden conveniently in their junk drawer in the kitchen, sometimes tucked away in a book to mark the place they'd last left off. It usually left them confused, curious, and more than a little hopeful.

And that was where the easy part settled in.

Now, he got to play the part of a concerned psychiatrist with a passion for religious intervention, and in every single case, he ended up referring them to the catholic church he eventually became more or less affiliated with. It really was astounding, really, how easily they listened to his advice and took it to heart. No doubt that silly exorcist had their hands full thanks to him. The thought amused him. He rather liked passing the time like this, if he were honest. It was more fun to be a mild nuisance than actually wreak havoc.

It was, however, a bit less fun once he began to notice he was being followed. They couldn’t really do anything, so he wasn’t all that concerned really. Just a bit annoyed. They were doing a piss-poor job of being inconspicuous about it, but he didn’t let on that he knew about it.

They’d been by his office a few times, fawning over him, asking what felt like too many questions. At first he’d brushed it off as simple curiosity. A lot of people were interested in finding out more about his line of work. It was a rather unconventional job as far as humans were concerned.

However, these three, two women and a man, decided to ask him some rather...personal questions. He’d caught on to the interrogation one afternoon, when they seemed to refuse to leave his office for an hour and a half.

“So sorry to bother you, Dr. Crowley. I was just curious as to where you got your degree, again? I don’t see any diplomas or certificates up on your wall,” the ringleader, a tall blond woman with sharp brown eyes asked one day. He didn’t remember her name. Lucille, or something. Trust her to have a weird name.

“I’m not a showoff,” He’d replied, giving her a condescending smile that bordered on a sneer. “Not as flashy as I may seem.”

"Oh, no, I didn't peg you for that type. I thought people like you put them up to...comfort patients. After all, who would want some quack without his credentials working with their mind?" She laughed, and the noise grated on his nerves.

"I can assure you, I have my degree."

"What school did you attend, then?"

"None of your business, Miss. Now if you'll excuse me. I have work to do. I don't have time to chit chat with nosy people."

Irritatingly enough, she didn't even looked miffed, just ever-patient, smiling serenely as she thanked him for his time and went on her way. A smaller, stouter woman followed her, as well as a mousy looking young man, and he was left to himself. Thank heav- hell- something. Something about her just...rubbed him the wrong way, honestly. She was too nice. And too pushy. She was just creepy, even for his standards.

And then there was the fact that, on more than one occassion, he'd spotted her, or one of her tag-alongs, watching him get into his car from across the street, or in St. James when he decided he needed a breather.

He was not, however, expecting them to get the jump on him.

It happened late one evening, as he was fumbling for the keys to the Bentley and simultaneously trying to untangle his limbs from his jacket. One moment he was opening the car door, the next he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, and the world spun until it went black.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but was dimly aware that he had a nasty headache forming, and that his hands were tied behind his back. He was sitting, and he hissed in pain as he lifted his feet off the ground, sharp pinpricks of heat stinging him through the soles of his shoes. Consecrated ground. He was in a church. This was confirmed when he glanced up and noticed the pews sprawled in front of him. And he seemed to be in the center of a circle..? What was that about? Oh well. He was sitting in a chair so at least he didn’t have to dance around like an idiot.

He was brought out of his mental monologue when he heard footsteps approaching and stop just in front of the circle.

“You!” He sat up indignantly, irritation creeping into his features. It was that damn nosy woman! “Did you hit me in the head? That’s assault, you know that, right?”

“Par for the course,” She replied flippantly, smiling at him. “We’re only trying to help you, Mr. Crowley. It seems you’ve lost your way and require the help of the church to get you back on your feet.” The demon stiffened, eyes narrowing at her. Had she discovered he was a demon? He really hoped they wouldn’t discorporate. Who knows when he’d be able to get a new body, it was all paperwork that he really didn’t want to fill out.

“Thanks but no thanks. I’m atheist. Religion is not my style, sorry to disappoint,” He replied coolly, and the woman, he was sure her name was Lucille, laughed.

“What a strange way of saying you’ve strayed away from the light of God!” She replied cheerfully, stalking around the edge of the circle. He could hear snickering behind him and turned to find her two lackeys standing there, watching the scene before them. Probably to make sure he didn’t escape. Fun. “Did you know, Mr. Crowley, that there’s no record of you? Nothing of your degree, where you went to school, nothing of the sort. There’s absolutely no paper trail left by you. Doesn’t that sound strange?” He shrugged, which was a feat given his position. “That’s very abnormal, if you think about it. I doubt I’m even speaking to the real Mr. Crowley, am I?” That had him confused, and he stared at her, cocking a brow at her.

“What the hell are you going on about?” He asked, and she smiled again.

“You’re not Anthony J. Crowley at all, are you? You’re just using him, his body, to carry out your wicked deeds.”

Understanding hit him, and he couldn’t help but laugh, which seemed to surprise and irritate her. So she thought he was possessing a human. Alright then, he could play along with that.

“So, the jig is up, is it?” He mused, leaning back in his chair, watching her smugly. What is it you plan on doing then? Give me a stern talking to? Wave some incense in my face and tell me I’m a bad demon?” He taunted.

“Oh goodness, no,” she replied. Her demeanor shifted, and her calm, sweet expression became colder and more clinical. “I fully intend on having you exorcised. You have yet to meet the man you keep sending your minions to. I think it would be rather poetic if you met your end by his hand.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes, thankful at least that his glasses had somehow managed to stay firmly in place throughout this whole ordeal. He had never even heard this guy’s name, let alone seen his face. He’d just wanted to be a nuisance to the poor sap. Wonderful how badly that had backfired on him.

“So, what? We sit around and wait patiently for your little buddy to come and chant some mystic mumbo jumbo in your fancy little circle?” He sneered. To his surprise, she took him seriously.

“Something of that ilk, yes.”

“...Oh. Well, guess I’ll make myself comfortable.” He made a show of wiggling in his seat, getting comfortable. Well. As comfortable as one could be tied to a chair surrounded by consecrated ground. In the center of some cultish circle surrounded by fanatics. This is fine. Everything is fine.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, had been kept quite preoccupied over the past few months. Pretending to exorcise people was hard work, and he was ready to call it quits at this point, as soon as Heaven gave the okay. On this particular night, however, he found a handwritten letter addressed to himself, tucked onto the desk of the head priest’s office. Curious, he opened it, scanning the letter, his brows furrowed as he reread it a few more times. Quickly, he slipped on his coat, adjusting his collar as he quickly made his way to his destination.

It was odd, being asked to meet in an unused church this late at night. Hardly anyone was out and about, and it made him rather wary of being jumped. It was times like these where his flaming sword would be extremely useful. But no use dwelling on the what-ifs.

He pushed the heavy doors of the church open, peeking in before entering. He clasped his hands together in front of himself nervously, hesitantly walking down the aisle between the pews. He could see someone standing there, and he squinted at that. “Er...Hello? Are you the one that wrote to me?” He asked, smiling awkwardly at the young woman. “It’s terribly strange to be meeting here, but you did say it was rather important?”

She smiled brilliantly at him, extending a hand to shake his. He stepped forward again, to shake it, but paused when his eyes adjusted to the dark, and he noticed someone seated behind her.

“Er...You have friends? What’s all this about?”

“This is precisely why I requested your audience,” Lucille hummed, gesturing to her ‘hostage’. “You see, this demon has posessed some poor soul, and we need you to purify it. He has been nothing but manipulative and deceitful to those who’ve requested your assistance. He is a liar and a sinner and he needs your help more than any of your other followers.”

Aziraphale frowned, taking a step closer to the edge of the circle, and when the figure lifted their head, the angel gasped in surprise.

“Crowley? Is that you?” the demon’s brows shot up as he realized who was here.

“Aziraphale? What the hell are you doing here?” The redhead hissed, the two staring incredulously at each other, much to the confusion of Lucille and her two lackeys.

“You two are….familiar with each other?” She asked cautiously, and the two beings shared a look, silently agreeing.

“Oh! Er, yes, a wily demon if I’ve ever met one,” Aziraphale replied exuberantly. “One of my most, er, difficult tasks yet! Don’t fret though, I can certainly take care of things,” He reassured her, beginning to usher her through the pews to the door. “Let the professional take care of things, it’s unsafe to meddle in affairs such as these.” Lucille dug her heels in though, too stubborn to leave just yet.

“But...we were hoping to learn from you!” She protested. “How can we rid the world of true evil if we can’t so much as observe a professional in his true element?”

“Oh, believe me, Lucy, it isn’t pretty business,” Crowley drawled out with a sly smile.

“It’s Lucille.”

“Whatever.”

“Anyways!” Aziraphale interjected cheerfully. “It’s rather dangerous work and I’d really prefer not to have an audience that could get hurt in the process. I can take care of the demon all my own and escort him and you all safely home!”

The young man standing behind Crowley stepped forward, procuring a flask of holy water from his coat pocket.

“We don’t need protectin’, sir,” he piped up, waving the bottle around before uncorking it. “We can take care of the dirty work for you.” Both Aziraphale and Crowley’s eyes widened, and before anyone else could react Aziraphale snapped his fingers. Instantly, the three humans froze, a glazed look coming over their eyes as Aziraphale crossed into the circle, freeing Crowley from the ropes and helping him off the chair. “Really now, playing around with things they shouldn’t be,” the angel huffed and puffed, looking more annoyed than anything now. “The nerve of some humans. When you three wake up, you’ll have no recollection of tonight’s events. In fact, you’ll have no memory of myself or Mr. Crowley, as you all were….were...heading out to a lovely walk in the park together. And you will move on with your lives and stop this silly cult nonsense.” The three nodded their heads dreamily, as Crowley darted out of the church as fast as his legs would carry him, wincing and making tiny grunts and noises as he slipped out. Another snap of his fingers, and the circle was gone, and the three snapped out of their trance. They shared looks of confusion, and Aziraphale smiled brightly at them. “So sorry! It seems like the rain outside has stopped, and I’m afraid I do need to ask you lot to leave now. Enjoy the rest of your evening together!” Their looks of confusion smoothed to understanding, and they slipped out of the church, thanking him as they went on their way. As soon as they were gone, Aziraphale sighed, now joining Crowley out on the street, who adjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his hair awkwardly.

“Nice save there, Angel. A minor nuisance really. But I suppose we’re even now for all the times I’ve had to save your skin, hmn?”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” the angel replied dryly. The two sat in awkward silence, Crowley stuffing his hands in his pockets and clearing his throat after a moment.

“Well...thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Any time, my dear boy. What are friends for, after all?” the tension between the two seemed to ease at that, and Crowley grinned back.

“You make a good point. “Never thought you’d be a cult leader.”

“And I never thought you’d let yourself get kidnapped.”

“Alright, you got me on that one. How’s about we head back to your place and enjoy a nice bottle of wine after that shitshow?”

“That sounds rather lovely, actually. Shall we then?” Aziraphale took the opportunity to link his arm through the demon’s. Crowley was a bit taken by surprise at that, but didn’t object, the two walking side by side as they made their way back to Aziraphale’s bookshop.

“Went down like a lead balloon, I’d say.”

“Are you quoting me back to me, Angel?”

“Perhaps. Will you tell me what that blasted J stands for now?”

“Why do you have to know?”

“Curiousity, of course. James? Jonathan?”

“...It stands for Janthony.”

“Excuse me?”

“You hear me.”

“Anthony Janthony Crowley?”

“Oh do shut up. I liked how it sounded.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. I find it quite endearing, actually.”

“Mn. Glad that makes two of us, Angel.”


End file.
